<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Birds of a Feather by estel_of_the_eyrie</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29843760">Birds of a Feather</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/estel_of_the_eyrie/pseuds/estel_of_the_eyrie'>estel_of_the_eyrie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Taking The Road Less Travelled By [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, References from the main Fic, Untitled Goose Game mention bc I had to, background evie/henry, proposal fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:40:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29843760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/estel_of_the_eyrie/pseuds/estel_of_the_eyrie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><em>After a month of sweltering heat and droughts, the final weekend of August that year was surprisingly pleasant. At the first sign of something less of a heatwave and more a humid daze, Jacob had been calling for a day out. </em> </p><p>It's a beautiful day in the City of London ... and you are in the middle of a horrible heatwave. </p><p>Or: lovebirds have a chaotic day out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jacob Frye/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Taking The Road Less Travelled By [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Birds of a Feather</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic takes place around a year after Breaking Mind Forged Manacles, where Jacob and Louise, the OC, have a fun relaxing day out in London. (Wedding prep for Evie and Henry may have resulted in them desperate for an <em>hour</em> to themselves in a house of chaos). </p><p>There's no Syndicate spoilers down below, just maybe a couple of things which won't make sense until I get to them in the main fic!</p><p>(Rated teen for the alcohol mentions but otherwise fluffy AF)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">August 1869</span>
  </strong>
</p><p>After a month of sweltering heat and droughts, the final weekend of August that year was surprisingly pleasant. At the first sign of something less of a heatwave and more a humid daze, Jacob had been calling for a day out.</p><p>“Nothing too far-fetched or stuff, I <em>promise</em>,” he pleaded. “Just for an hour.”</p><p>“That’s what you said when the Boat Race was on and look what happened.”</p><p>“Nothing happened to <em>them</em>.”</p><p>“Okay I’ll give you that one,” she said, watching the intensity of <em>those damn eyes</em>. It was like arguing with a kitten.</p><p>To be fair, she did owe him some time alone. Both of them had been working their butts off, though not as intensely as the year previously, but still enough that any excursions usually paired up with Rooks nights at the pub or stake outs on Assassin business. Not that there was anything wrong with it, they just needed a bit of time – one evening, if that – to themselves.</p><p>Plus with the final wedding preparations for Evie and Henry heating up, the foyer was <em>always </em>full of people passing between. <em>And </em>Henry’s parents were coming over to stay … which everyone was <em>over the moon with</em>.</p><p>“You won’t even have to change into the dress if you don’t want to.”</p><p>At her pause, the brow furrowing as she contemplated the option, he knew he had her agreement. </p><p>*</p><p>Jacob booked a carriage to take them to their destination for ten the following morning. And for a man who <em>loathed </em>being awake before noon, Jacob was prepared and ready to go before she was. Loitering near the front door waiting for her, his heavy overcoat thrown across his arm, hiding what appeared to be a bulky crate of some kind.</p><p>She had been somewhat confused by Jacob’s request of dressing smart-casual, which <em>also </em>made her think they were heading somewhere else than the pub <em>or </em>the Ritz. Given that he was standing there in one of his <em>fancier </em>silk shirts, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, as opposed to his usual starched linen reserved for more heavy-duty endeavours, it probably wasn’t to a fight club either.</p><p>“C’mon, let’s sneak out before they notice we’ve gone.”</p><p>“Am I allowed to know where we’re going?”</p><p>“<em>Nope</em>!” He cheered with a childish glee, beaming over his shoulder at her bemusement.</p><p>Bundling into the back of the carriage, Jacob sat opposite her with his back to their route, the basket and coat placed to his side. She had offered to take it while he climbed inside but he was being oddly territorial that morning. Even if meant he was going to hold onto it with his <em>teeth</em> (and he almost did).</p><p>Once the door was closed and horses away and driving them, Louise turned to the window, peeking out like an excited child.</p><p>“Is this it?” she asked, pointing at a theatre across the road.</p><p>Peeking one eye open from where he had bundled into the corner and napped, Jacob shook his head. </p><p>“Nope.”</p><p>“<em>Come on, just tell me</em>. I’ll stop bothering you when you do.”</p><p>Even the jubilant guesses about where they might be heading didn’t make him crack. He <em>was </em>smiling, so it wasn’t going to be glum – and knowing Jacob, it was to be a fun day out.  No amount of prodding and joking and badgering him the entire hour-long journey gave the game away.</p><p>Just a wink, a smile, and Jacob returning to doze again in traffic whilst the cycle of Louise’s guesses started once again.</p><p>Perhaps the little café down the road from Trafalgar Square, or even a secret spot he had yet to show her? A small possibility was to their tailor, stock on up on their lightly armoured waistcoats and enquire about a new coat or gown … but neither really saw the need with wedding attire already sourced and primed for action.</p><p>*</p><p>Close to an hour of crawling through central London traffic later, their driver stopped somewhere a little West of Marble Arch. The expanse of road with many riding horses or waltzing in the sun stretched before them, but Jacob began to lead her through trees and grass into the park itself.  </p><p>The park was still busy, even as people had learned over the Summer to stay out of the sun for too long; sweethearts on walks along the edge of the lake, the orchestra playing in the bandstands, the odd boat punting along with parasol ladies and gentlemen in suits. An ice cream vendor with an ostentatious queue that left them both grumbling and deliberating whether the wait was worth it.</p><p>A light breeze picked up as they reached a spot Jacob deemed acceptable enough. It was a bit further away from the crowds at the base of a tree. Its roots perfect for leaning back against to watch the world pass by, though the ground itself sloped at an angle low enough to not cause discomfort, but <em>just </em>steep enough to knock over glasses.</p><p>Handing his coat over to Louise to put aside, Jacob set the scene. First the blanket, then the small cushions he’d nicked from the lounge and finally, the <em>basket</em>. Opening it even partially showed Louise a plethora of different snacks and drinks, enough to feed a small army (or one Jacob when he’s skipped breakfast.)</p><p>As he listed their contents, one by one they were prised from the basket and lined up on the blanket, parading the assortment of goodies within.</p><p>“We’ve got wine and a couple of beers. I <em>tried </em>to pack tea but it just leaked everywhere. I grabbed a couple of brownies you made the other day, some of Lottie’s shortbread, sandwiches, apples and –“ he turned around and caught Louise already steady progress through the bowl of shortbread.</p><p>She pushed the remains of a piece into her mouth and looked at him “What?” she asked, spraying crumbs everywhere.</p><p>“You could at least save <em>me </em>some!”</p><p>“Then it’s your fault for leaving them close enough for me to grab.”</p><p>The response was lost to good-natured laughter. The next to be withdrawn from the hamper was a bottle of red wine and two glasses. The bottle was rested against the roots, but the moment he let go of the empty glasses they toppled over.</p><p>Louise scrunched her nose and then leaned forwards. “Hand me the knife.”</p><p>Upon taking the offered butter knife, she crouched away from the roots and stabbed into the dirt. She then extracted two small cylindrical trenches, which, when combined with the two glasses she plucked from the blanket, acted as little cup holders.</p><p>“Fun, right?” She said, grinning. “Years of music festivals and camping for archery competitions have taught me well.”</p><p>There was nothing special about what Jacob had planned; get to the park, sit there as long as they could bear the heat and the sun, then wander home. A day where they could just be … <em>them</em>. Not Sir and Dame, not leaders of the largest Gang of the British underworld, not even Master Assassins … just them. Jacob and Louise, a duo in love.</p><p>A mutual agreement to not bring up work, and they got stuck in.</p><p>*</p><p>Full of good food, and an <em>excellent </em>vintage of wine (he must admit Greenie does know his stuff) Jacob decided to doze off after their lunch, making use of his beloved coat as a pillow. One arm stretched behind his head, and other draped over his eyes. When he woke sometime later, he was warm.</p><p>The sun had moved to directly above them and then partially back down, so the crisp colours of the earlier hours were now tinted a warm glow that made the dreadful heat worth it for the view. As he yawned, taking in the changed scene, a green butterfly landed upon the neck of the wine bottle, sat there watching, and joined them for a while.</p><p>Above the bristle of leaves in the canopy above, the buzz of bees and concerning waterfowl, was Louise relaxing. For once. Her legs were outstretched atop of his, ankles crossed and foot tapping at her own hummed tune. There was a symphony of birdsong above them, and a queer feeling settled in his stomach.</p><p>Seeing the furrowed brow, how deep she was in thought, he reached out and placed a comforting hand on her leg.</p><p>“What are you thinking about?”</p><p>“You know what? I think that I sat around this part of the park when the World Cup was on a few years ago,” she mused. “They erected a couple of large screen televisions and people <em>flocked </em>out of the pubs to stand in the summer heat watching England play. It did mean, when England scored, you ended <em>covered </em>in other people’s booze, but the <em>roar</em> of everyone cheering … so many people were jumping you could feel the ground <em>moving</em>.”</p><p>It was one thing she did not talk about often, her past life. Normally the tales from children’s books and fantasy were reserved for when the urchins stopped by the school and demanded a story, or Evie and Greenie asking for some of the history upcoming (if she could remember). Talking about sport or anything not immediately related to their predicament … it just never happened.</p><p>He made a note to ask later; she <em>had </em>said there was nothing she could ask that would embarrass her. She might even make them utterly hilarious.</p><p>(It was something she pointed out as they walked through when they had first arrived. Statues and monuments … decades old and fixtures of the geography, not yet conceived for him.</p><p>“To be fair,” she had said. “I always found the Peter Pan statue a little unsettling for some reason.”)</p><p>He sniffed. Something about a waste of good beer.</p><p>He stretched, scrunching his nose as he felt himself knock over the empty container of something or other. “How long was I out, anyway?”</p><p>“About an hour? Maybe a bit longer – I wasn’t actually paying attention.” She plucked another daisy from the meadow around them. “I was about to join you in having a nap, actually.”</p><p>Shifting onto his side to face her, he noticed the crowd along the gravel paths had vanished. “<em>You </em>said that you were going to wake me up for ices…”</p><p>“I was going to! But I think he sold everything because he packed up and carted off before the queue did.” She huffed. “Can’t believe I’m getting bored of ice cream; I miss <em>Ben and Jerry’s…</em>”</p><p>“The brownie one sounded <em>divine</em>,” he hummed at the thought. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“Making you a crown,” she lifted the daisy chain a bit higher. “Not that I need to stoke your ego any <em>more</em>.”</p><p>That <em>glint </em>in his eye, the growing smirk … <em>the little shit</em>.</p><p>He raises onto his elbows and tries to catch her eye with the same look; Louise lets him try for another couple of minutes just for fun. Shifting just a <em>little </em>bit closer every time. She <em>tried </em>to concentrate, humming again, but it was stuttered; and eventually, once Jacob was a few inches from her face, the masked slipped and she descended into a puddle of giggles.</p><p>Smirk unfolding into a full grin, he swooped in for the kiss, capturing her lips between his. Her left hand came to cup his cheek, head tilting back and leaning fully against the tree root near the small of her back for support.</p><p>One hand on her waist, the other coming to sink into the hair at the back of her messy bun.</p><p>*</p><p>Turns out neither wanted to leave so soon. Jacob was adamant they had other things to do, but each time he brought up leaving, it simply ended up with the pair becoming more comfortable where they were.</p><p>Curled up with one another, the two were reclining and watching a particularly furious goose reign chaos upon the shoreline picnics and fishers.</p><p>The breeze running its fingers through the leaves, the sounds of the city seemingly a world away from their oasis in Hyde Park, their light rasps of breath and the heartbeat beneath his ear …<em> oh yeah. </em>He was happy like this.</p><p>With the light sensation of Louise’s fingers through his hair, he could very well fall back to sleep beneath her care. As he thought on, an idle finger traced the vines on her arm. A kiss to the inside of her wrist.</p><p>At the sensation of a hairpin sliding in, he looked up to see her laughing again. And hands empty. Reaching up he found that <em>yep, that’s a daisy chain crown</em>.</p><p>“A crown? <em>Sweetheart</em>, you shouldn’t have.”</p><p>“See I <em>knew </em>your ego wouldn’t be able to handle it.”</p><p>The grin was back and so was a raised eyebrow. “The question <em>is</em>, can <em>you</em> handle it?”</p><p>A snort of laughter drew his eyes back to her, to see Louise red in the face and hushing her giggles. He frowned, and then-</p><p>“<em>Oh</em>.”</p><p>“Don’t pretend like that wasn’t intentional.”</p><p>He chuckled, just relishing in the mischief and the shade. Then a light tap on his shoulder, then slightly more insistent.</p><p>“Hmm? Wha -<em>of you little shit c’mere</em>!”</p><p>Louise didn’t move from where they had been enjoying their day, instead deciding to provide emotional support from the sidelines. In reality, that meant sitting on the blanket and laughing so hard she was almost in tears.</p><p>Fifteen minutes later, and Jacob returned soaking and hatless. The pin had done its job though, and the daisies remained cemented in place. Full of mirth, she teased him about it, as she had planned to do anyway. Though he was exaggerating for sympathy, there was a slight truth to his hurt. The puppy dog eyes, the little jut of his chin as they packed away earned him a bear hug and imitations of the damsel’s “<em>oh my hero!</em>” which cheered him up.</p><p>If there was one thing Jacob <em>loved</em>, it was having his ego appealed to.</p><p>“Can we walk back? There’s something I want to show you.” He stuck his arm out, and she wrapped her hands around his elbow.</p><p>The walk down the Mall was nice, minus the grumblings about the lost top hat (and Louise bemoaning<em> I’ll buy you a new one, it’s not the only hat in London</em>). A few Rooks here and there, some with ice cream, a wave across the stream of carriages and engines dividing them, a tipped hat. None of them mentioned the daisy chain slowly falling apart and cascading flowers as they walked until there was a single piece left stuck beneath the pin.</p><p>As they passed through Westminster, crawling up the Embankment hand in hand, Big Ben’s tolls made it clear how wrong they had been estimating the time. Rather than one in the afternoon as they had estimated, it was something a bit closer to four or five.</p><p>Crawling into The Strand, Both silently agreed to avoid that phantom husk near Shaftsbury Avenue, instead keeping close to the water’s edge and the station.</p><p>A round of cheers across the way as they were just deliberating on the likelihood of thunder that evening had them realise that they were, in fact, crossing back into the threshold of work and jobs and (ugh) <em>responsibility</em>. Looks like the ice cream would have to wait another day.</p><p>Pubs on junction corners were already seeing their first purveyors for the evening, and renovations on one particular settlement, still buzzing away with busy bees, brought a round of cheers.</p><p>Staring upwards, hand raised to block the sun from his eyes, Jacob saw several Rooks and affiliated builders greeting them. “How’s it going, lads?”</p><p>A round of cheers, a couple of waved pint glasses from down the street. One or two pipes being lit by those on break.</p><p>“Much left to do?”</p><p>“<em>Nah</em>, just a couple o’ tiles an’ then you can get the painters in.”</p><p>“And the beer!” someone shouted from the back, waving an empty rippled glass.</p><p>A round of cheers parroted back, a clink of glasses, someone else in the street jeering about <em>how dare they act so uncultured in the middle of the street and </em>so <em>brazenly</em>.</p><p>Diving through the basket of what they had left, Louise pulled out some of the sandwiches and brownies for them as a meal. They’d been there for a while, and though they had a break (and would be finishing a daunting shift soon enough)</p><p>Louise frowned up at the building. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”</p><p>“Not exactly … although it’s good we did. I’ve been wondering how they’ve got on.”</p><p>“They’re doing good!” she craned her neck to the nesting birds on the roof. “You might want to sort of the roof before you go, chances are it’s going to rain in a bit!”</p><p>“Already ahead of yer, Wren!”</p><p>They didn’t keep them long, and with promises to check back again – this time <em>yes with a round on us</em> – Louise and Jacob wandered off into the crowds once more. One small comment, stage whispered by a Rook when he thought they were far enough to avoid hearing, had her frown for a moment.</p><p>
  <em>“I bet it’s happening now. Tell Sampson he owes me thruppence if I’m right!”</em>
</p><p>The <em>SLAP </em>across the back of his head was heard clearly enough.</p><p>Louise turned to him further down the road. “Any thoughts on a name for it yet?”</p><p>A distant smile. “One or two options.” </p><p>She prodded his arm. “Come on, tell me. I might be able to give feedback. <em>Come oooooon</em>.”</p><p>“And who was it that said ‘nothing business related’ today, hmm?”</p><p>“<em>You </em>decided to walk past the pub.”</p><p>Though the Kenway Mansion was closer, that was not where they were going. Leading her down rabbit holes and back alleys, they dropped off the remainder of the food with Clara and the Urchins. Burden lifted, and with just the wine left, they continued through the city. Up through streets Louise didn’t recognise for anything … in <em>her </em>interests, she was surprised when they soon found themselves sneaking through a fence and climbing on a familiar roof.</p><p>Opposite the British Museum was several hotels, beyond that, Louise recalled with a bittersweet note was her old University. The archaeology department building on the corner, the office, <em>her old flat</em>… she did miss the decorative glass ceiling for the Museum though.</p><p>And here, all the way of the roof, was a gorgeous overview of the buildings. Everything was so much <em>lower </em>down in Whitechapel, everything compact and overlapping. So this rooftop to sit her in their own company for now was liberating in a way.</p><p>Jacob took her to stand atop the front entrance, right where Louise knew the flagpole used to be – to overlook more of the skyline. They faced towards Westminster in the distance, Whitechapel and their house in City behind them somewhere.</p><p>“Here,” he held out the wine bottle for her to take. It barely a quarter full now, and had remarkably survived the numerous incidents throughout the day.</p><p>She nodded into the setting sun. “Getting shitfaced on the top of the British Museum. I have to hand it to you Jacob, you have <em>outdone </em>yourself this time.”</p><p>“Well, as much as I’d <em>like </em>to get shit-faced…” he sighed. “There’s something I have to ask you first.”</p><p>Over her shoulder, Louise could hear Jacob shifting from foot to foot. She shrugged. “Okay. Ask away.”</p><p>“… Will you marry me?”</p><p>She frowned, <em>surely he didn’t just -?</em> But lo and behold, when she glanced over her shoulder, and then checked again, there he was. Blushing (<em>Jacob Frye </em>was <em>blushing!</em>)</p><p>The rustling must have been him kneeling, but there he was. On one knee, a small box in his grasp outstretched and the look which simply made her heart melt turned up to eleven. He was <em>sweating</em> beneath all these layers – even with the coat off, he hoped she couldn’t see it. The nausea from the butterflies, oh <em>christ. He loved this woman so much</em>.</p><p>For Jacob’s self-professed <em>love of sparkle</em>, the band was beautifully simple in its design. A thin silver band inlaid with a ring of green jewels running through the inside.</p><p>“I’ve been wanting to ask you for <em>so fucking long</em> but it was never the right time. And then when we were over in Hyde Park this morning I just thought to myself … <em>This is nice.” </em></p><p>“Shame the goose got in the way.” She joked through a new wave of tears.  </p><p>There was a half-hearted mumble beneath his breath, her watery laugh. A breath.</p><p>“Honestly I’ve been dropping hints for ages, I’m astounded that you never guessed. Quite frankly <em>Evie</em> probably guessed before you did. And Lottie did, but that’s only because I asked her what she thought, and you know what? She told me to hurry up with it already.</p><p>“And part of believes that Mrs Disraeli was planning this from the beginning.”</p><p>He stopped, his face flaring in a flush as he cast his head downwards. The lovestruck idiot levelled his breathing for a moment. “<em>bloody – </em>I had a whole thing prepared. Wrote down everything I wanted to say-”</p><p>“You don’t have to – it’s <em>okay</em>.”</p><p>A long, low breath. Steadying himself. “I know … we never exactly got started on the right foot, that we never entirely believed we might see the end of Starrick ... but it’s been a year, and almost as long since I found myself looking forward to even the shittiest jobs as long as you were coming along. Nine months since I knew each morning would begin with that <em>frankly goofy </em>smile of yours and a kiss, and six since even rainy days are brushed aside by waking up with you in my arms.</p><p>“The little things – the food after a hangover, fetching things before I need ‘em, the way you get <em>everyone </em>heard even if it takes forever … how could I <em>not </em>love that?”</p><p>He went to go on, but stopped, ducking his head and sighing.</p><p>“Can I stand up yet? The marble isn’t exactly comfortable.”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>.”</p><p><em>“Oh thank fuck for that</em>,” he groaned rising to his feet.</p><p>“<em>No, </em>you tit. That’s my answer.” She stepped forward, covering his hands over the box. “I’m saying yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”</p><p>He looked so <em>shocked </em>for an instant, his brain so stuck on pulling together his scripted lines he had not registered they were no longer needed. And then he was a flurry of movement. Beaming, he raced to her, taking her face in his hands and plastering her with kisses as she laughed.</p><p>The distance between them was less than a foot but it was a marathon into the other’s arms. Jacob holding on for dear life, his free hand coming sink back into her hair as Louise flung her arms around his neck. With the elated feeling in his stomach growing tenfold, the butterflies making space for fireworks, he couldn’t help himself but spin her around on the spot.</p><p>It was cliché to them, thinking back, but it felt right in the moment.</p><p>“Is that why you wouldn’t let me carry your coat earlier? Because the ring was in your pocket?”</p><p>“Easier than lugging a bloody sword halfway around London. Far more subtle, too.”</p><p>A trickle of laughter from where she had turned to nuzzle his neck. “I was joking about that!” </p><p>A beat.</p><p>“We can have swords at the wedding, right?”</p><p>“<em>Definitely</em>,” his response muffled in her hair. “We’ll cut the cake with it.”</p><p>“A chocolate one, at least promise me that.”</p><p>More muffled laughter into his shirt,</p><p>“Who the hell even <em>enjoys </em>fruit cake?”</p><p>They blabbered on for a bit longer, two lonely souls finally bonding with the one who healed them. This little spot of joy in a life and career which only guaranteed pain. As she ran a gloved touch up across fraying thread work on his shirt, Jacob took the opportunity to place the ring of her finger. He couldn’t stop holding her hand, running a finger over the band now finally in its place as part of a whole.</p><p>“Winter wedding?” Louise mused. “Could do autumn if we skipped all of <em>that</em> chaos.”</p><p>“It would mean dealing with Balmoral either before or afterwards…”</p><p>Louise jutted her head to the side. “If it means not having to wear the dress then-“ she shrugged. “We’ll deal with it.”</p><p>She laces their hands together. There, Louise could feel the overlapping calluses and nicks from fights and casual hazards of their job. And Jacob could feel hers, from clawing her away out of a <em>shitty </em>situation, and years of taunt bowstrings.</p><p>“We could try and head to Gretna Green?” she offered. “No idea how long it would take to get through Scotland but <em>hey</em>.” </p><p>“Again: Evie would <em>kill us</em>.”</p><p>“Correction: she’d kill you, under the impression that it’s your idea.”</p><p>He laughed, thinking just how many times that had happened before.  “And how long of a head start do you think you’d get?”</p><p>“Long enough to run while she’s dealing with you.”</p><p>Jacob ducked his head, that adorable grin overtaking his features once more, before embracing her. Overcome with joy (and holding back tears himself) Jacob pushed her back against the short wall. The sudden movement causing her to throw an arm backwards to support herself.</p><p>There was a light grating sound of glass on stone, a moment of nothing, and then a clattering from beneath them. Daring a risk to look, there lay the remnants of the bottle.</p><p>“Ah shit … that was<em> such </em>a good year,” he bemoaned, watching the pool trickle towards the stairs and the grass.</p><p>“Do you think they’ll notice?”</p><p>As they peered over the edge, still holding onto one another, a somewhat startled guard crept towards the stain on the marble floor. He picked up a shard of the bottle, tilted his head before looking from left to right.</p><p>They chuckled, believing that they had <em>somehow </em>gotten away with it… which only just got them caught. The guard had moved <em>just </em>at the right angle to catch them on their perch.</p><p>“<em>Oi!</em>”</p><p>Synchronised swears as both flew away from the wall. A glance to the other, an unspoken agreement and flaps of leathery wing-like coats were heard upon their escape. Down a wall, over a fence, and then flying through roads with an adrenaline rush that just would not leave.</p><p>*</p><p>Later, the two lovebirds were curled up beneath the covers, legs tangled together and enjoying the final moments of their day alone. Relishing in the comfortable atmosphere created by the fire, the buzz still there from the alcohol and the escape, caressing them as they moved to sleep.</p><p>The ankle-biting chill that swept through London after their dash from the rooftop settled deeply and comfortably. Welcomed after weeks of unending heat. And above the clacking of wheels on cobblestones outside, came the unmistakable echoes of thunder descending on London Town.</p><p>Somewhere beneath the bundle of blankets came a mumble of “<em>Told you it was going to rain</em>.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AHHHH I don't write fluff as much as I normally do but dammit once I started thinking about this, I could not let it end. </p><p> Also, yes that is a reference to Untitled Goose Game. Because dammit why not. (RIP Jacob's hat) </p><p>(The Rooks were <em>definitely</em> betting who was going to propose and when. </p><p>It’s important for me to let you know I had both Taylor Swift’s re-recording of Love Story and Snow Patrol “Chasing Cars” on in the background as I worked on this. Just if you needed a vibe.<br/>https://recollections.biz/blog/how-to-host-a-victorian-picnic/</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>